


Bravest of Us All

by jerobitaille



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-23
Updated: 2011-03-23
Packaged: 2017-10-17 05:39:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/173481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jerobitaille/pseuds/jerobitaille
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgause doesn't make things quite so easy when the boys storm the castle. The Coming of Arthur Part 2 AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bravest of Us All

  
**Bravest of Us All**   


The clouds were thick overhead, filling most of the sky. Every so often they would slip apart just enough to reveal the moon. There was only a small sliver left, the last night before the new moon. Gaius insisted that was a good sign for what was to come, insisting that it meant a change was coming, but Merlin still felt uneasy. He leaned against the window ledge, staring out at the dark landscape below, trying to feel the same hope that was enveloping the others.

As much as he believed in Arthur and what he was setting out to do, Merlin feared for him as well. Arthur had always been far braver than was strictly healthy. For all his entitlement and prattishness, Arthur was truly selfless when it came to helping others. He wouldn’t hesitate to put itself in danger if it kept someone else from harm. And while Merlin could understand Arthur’s desire to rescue his father no matter what the cost to himself, Merlin wasn’t really sure Uther deserved his son’s devotion.

Merlin prayed to every god that he could think of that Arthur would still be among the living when the sun set the following day.

“Things must really be dire if you’ve gone all pensive.”

Merlin glanced over his shoulder at Arthur, grunting a bit in lieu of a greeting. His lack of an actual answer seemed to amuse the other man, Arthur’s lips twisting into a crooked smile. Arthur stepped closer, pressing a hand between Merlin’s shoulder blades. Merlin leaned into Arthur’s touch just as he always did. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t stop himself.

“You’ll be a great king when the time comes,” Merlin said quietly as he turned his gaze outwards again. “You can see more to men than simply their bloodlines.”

Arthur stepped in close, his hand sliding up to curl around Merlin’s shoulder. “Okay, you officially have me worried. What’s going on?”

Merlin turned his head to stare at Arthur, checking him over for lumps on his head. “You’re joking, right? We face an immortal army tomorrow—only eight of us, I might add. Eight against the whole of Cenred’s army. I think that entitles me to a bit of worrying.”

Arthur considered him for a moment, his lips quirking slightly. The expression didn’t reach his eyes, though. He may not admit to it, even under duress, but Arthur was worried. It was in the way he held himself, the lines of his body. Over the past few years he’d learned to read Arthur’s moods from a distance. The further away he was the better he was able to dodge objects thrown at his head.

“You don’t have to come with us,” Arthur said quietly, glancing away. He leaned in close, pressing his body just barely against Merlin’s side. “You’re not a warrior. Gwen and Gaius will be staying behind. There’s no reason you shouldn’t as well.”

“And leave you on your own? Yeah, I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re rubbish at looking after yourself.”

Merlin did his utmost to sound cheerful and unconcerned, but it sounded hollow even to his own ears. The simple truth was that he had to be there. As strong and brave as Arthur was, he couldn’t fight the combined magic of Morgause and Morgana without help. The sisters would rip him limb from limb with barely a thought. Someone needed to be there to draw their attention from Arthur.

Shifting slightly, Arthur leaned against the wall so he was staring straight at Merlin. Even as he moved away, Arthur’s hand never left him. It merely slid from one shoulder to the other, trailing down his arm to clasp loosely around his forearm. Even as he tried to stop himself, Merlin seemed mechanically drawn to the other man, leaning into Arthur’s touch. There was a comfort in standing so close to him.

“Merlin, I don’t want you to feel that you have to come with us,” Arthur insisted, squeezing Merlin’s forearm briefly.

“Camelot’s my home. I will not see it fall to the likes of Morgana and Morgause. Not when she’s meant to have a truly great king ruling over her.”

Arthur smiled fondly at him, tilting his head to the side to peer at him from a different angle. “You’re a riddle, Merlin. A confusing, utterly frustrating riddle.”

“I’m not as much of a riddle as you seem to think I am,” Merlin hedged, glancing away.

It would be so easy to tell Arthur the truth then. Arthur was all but inviting him to admit to his sorcery. It would be better for Arthur to hear it from him rather than simply chancing upon the knowledge through other means. There were so many times that he’d wanted to confess everything, but each time the word got stuck in his throat. No matter how much he tried to deny it, he feared Uther more than he trusted Arthur.

When he looked back, Arthur was staring straight at him with that _look_ on his face. The look that always made him feel like a little boy who’d gotten into something he shouldn’t. Trying to avoid the inevitable conversation wouldn’t work since there were none of the everyday distractions of an active castle.

“Out with it,” Arthur demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. His face was stern, but there was concern shining in his eyes.

“You trust me, right?”

Arthur rolled his eyes, his whole body shifting and rolling to illustrate his exasperation. “Merlin, this isn’t really helping your cause.”

“There’s something I need to do tomorrow. Something that I can’t tell you about. Just please trust me.” Merlin held Arthur’s gaze, silently pleading with the other man to stop pressing the issue.

Arthur started to argue, but stopped himself. His lips were pursed, the words trying to force themselves out, but he held his tongue. Merlin smiled tightly and nodded his head, letting Arthur know he was grateful. Merlin wasn’t naïve, though. He knew that once things settled down and Uther was back on the throne where he belonged that Arthur would want the conversation continued.

“Merlin,” Arthur said quietly as he started to turn away. “I hope you’ll trust me one day.”

The words were pretty much a punch in the gut. Arthur was already moving down the corridor before he had a chance to say anything.

“I’m magic.”

The words were whispered so quietly and Arthur was so far away that there was no way he could hear Merlin’s admission.

One day he’d be able to say the words directly to Arthur.

XXXXXXXXXX

Blade clutched tight in his hand, Merlin stalked towards the chalice. He glanced right and left to make sure that none of Morgana’s immortal soldiers would appear suddenly from behind a pillar. Merlin quickened his pace as he got closer. He was only a few steps away, already raising the tip of the sword above his shoulder, when a sudden gust of unnatural wind knocked him off balance.

As Merlin turned to glance over his shoulder, he lost his footing entirely.

He and Lancelot were no longer the only ones in the room. The two undead soldiers standing as guards at the doorway were a minor concern at the moment. Their eyes were trained outwards, awaiting orders from their mistress who was suddenly all too close.

Morgause stood near the door, a menacing presence on her own.

Only she wasn’t alone.

Arthur was kneeling at her feet.

There was a lot of power in her slight frame that had nothing to do with the magic she wielded. Morgause had Arthur’s left arm twisted behind his back at a painful angle and was holding a knife to his throat with her other hand. The tip of the blade was pointed upwards, digging sharply into the underside of Arthur’s jaw.

“You really didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” Morgause taunted, pressing the tip of her knife more firmly against Arthur’s flesh, earning her a grunt from her captive.

Excalibur’s hilt clutched in his right hand, Merlin pushed himself up with his left. He kept his eyes trained on Morgause, willing himself not to acknowledge Arthur’s predicament. If he thought about Arthur too much, about what could happen to him, he’d falter. Morgause would press her advantage and Arthur would be hurt. Killed even. It was futile, though. His eyes were always drawn to Arthur whenever they were in the same room.

“Nothing to say, Merlin? No witty comment? Not going to bargain with me for his life?” The laughter in her voice set his nerves further on edge.

“Let him go.” He tried to put as much force as he could into his voice, but was fairly certain he was failing miserably.

A thin trail of blood slid down Arthur’s throat starting at the tip of the knife, soaking into the collar of his shirt at its end. Arthur didn’t flinch, but his features tightened further, clearly showing his anger. With the knife pressed to the underside of his jaw, any attempt Arthur made at talking would likely result in him stabbing himself.  
It was probably for the best. If he’d been able to talk, no doubt he already would have said something that would have angered Morgause. Arthur rarely thought before he spoke in highly stressful situations.

“We both know that’s not going to happen,” Morgause informed him, leaning in close so that her lips brushed against Arthur’s temple. “Arthur is the only thing that stands between my dear sister and her undisputed rule of Camelot.”

Lips pursed, Merlin took a step towards Arthur and Morgause. He passed Excalibur to his left hand and raised his right. This was hardly how he wanted to reveal his powers to Arthur, but Morgause had taken it entirely out of his hands. Merlin had certainly never wanted Morgause to know what he was capable of. It was much safer if she simply thought of him as a nuisance rather than an actual threat.

Just beyond Morgause’s right shoulder, Merlin caught a quick flash of movement. Lancelot. Merlin kept his expression neutral, not wanting to give his friend’s location away. He had no idea what Lancelot had planned, but the tumbling boulders when they were being chased through the forest proved Lancelot’s resourcefulness.

“So the fact that the people of Camelot want nothing to do with her?” Merlin prodded, trying his best to appear unphased by it all.

Morgause growled, the knife digger a fraction deeper into the flesh of Arthur’s throat. Merlin scrambled to think of a come back, something witty to say, but he stumbled over the words. Still, it was a worthwhile distraction and gave Lancelot the oportunity he needed to divert Morgause’s attention.

There was a loud crash as Lancelot hurled a heavy candlestick across the room and through one of the stained glass windows.

As Morgause turned towards the sound, Arthur reared back, catching her in the stomach with the back of his head. The blow threw her off balance enough for him to scramble away.

Morgause recovered far quicker than any of them expected. Arthur didn’t even have enough time to regain his footing before Morgause whirled around on him. Merlin raised his hand, his mouth open to shout a warning to Arthur, but Morgause was faster. Before he could stop her, Morgause flung the knife at Arthur. The blade, given extra force with Morgause’s own magic, pierced Arthur’s armor, embedding itself just below his right shoulder.

Arthur may have cried out, Merlin would never be too sure, but his own shout was louder. He didn’t think. Hand outstretched towards Morgause, Merlin shouted, a loud, guttural sound that echoed throughout the room and shattered all of the windows. Morgause went flying backwards, knocked completely off her feet. His vision was gold-tinged as he stalked towards her, mumbling under his breath as he sent her skidding across the floor. When Morgana’s soldiers tried to intervene, Merlin sent them flying across the corridor with barely a glance, slamming the door shut behind them.

“You do not touch him,” Merlin growled, his hold on Excalibur tightening with each step. He leveled the blade at Morgause’s throat, muttering a quick spell to keep her still.

“Merlin, the cup!”

Lancelot’s shout was loud enough to snap him out of his trance. Shaking his head, Merlin spun about on his heel and rushed towards the chalice on the far side of the room. He was nearly within reach, already lifting the sword above his shoulder, when he was knocked off balance once again and flung across the room.

Crashing into a pillar, Merlin’s grip on the sword slipped and it skittered across the floor. Merlin left it for the moment, lifting his hand and blasting Morgause with another shockwave of air.

“Aren’t you full of surprises,” the witch grunted as she righted herself again.

Merlin ignored her, scrambling instead for the sword. He kept the bulk of his attention on Morgause, watching to see if she tried to attack again. He also tried his best to keep Arthur and Lancelot in his peripheral vision, needing to protect them. At the moment, though, they were secondary to his need to destroy the chalice.

“Leave now and you have a chance to live,” Merlin told Morgause as his fingers closed around the hilt of Excalibur. “Because I will kill you if I have to.”

Morgause laughed outright, the air around her crackling with energy. “So much spirit now that you’re not hiding behind your master. Too bad—”

With a sudden burst that Merlin hadn’t been expecting—especially considering he had a knife in his shoulder—Arthur tackled Morgause to the ground. Merlin desperately wanted to intervene and ensure that Arthur was the victor, but he knew he should take advantage of the opportunity Arthur had given him. He had to trust that Lancelot would do what he could to help Arthur in the interval.

Sprinting across the short distance that separated him from the chalice, Merlin brought the sword high up over his shoulder. He stopped at the last moment, planted his feet firmly, and swung.

The sharp blade severed the cup from the stem, both parts toppling to the ground with a clatter. As the blood spilled upon the flagstones, Merlin staggered backwards from the shockwave of the magic undoing itself. There was a second, concussive jolt as the immortal soldiers all over the castle burst into nothingness.

Merlin turned slowly, breathing heavily, to see why there was no outraged shout from Morgause. Arthur and Morgause lay on a heap, unmoving. Lancelot was slowly turning Arthur over, and Merlin felt his breath catch when he saw the large smear of blood in the center of Arthur’s chest.

“No,” Merlin gasped breathlessly, Excalibur falling once again to the floor. He rushed across the room, dropping to his knees and sliding the last of the way. Merlin reached for Arthur, catching hold of his leg and drawing himself closer.

“Ow.”

A startled laugh forced itself past Merlin’s lips at the sound of Arthur’s pained grunt. His eyes shot upwards, and he was unable to prevent a grin as Arthur’s eyes flickered open. He spared a moment to glance at Morgause, caught off guard by her sightless gaze staring upwards at the ceiling. As his gaze trailed downwards, he couldn’t help fixating on the dagger hilt protruding from the centre of her chest.

“ _Noooo!_ ”

The room began to tremble around them the instant Morgana locked eyes on her sister’s body. She staggered across the room unseeing, dropping to her knees alongside Morgause. Morgana reached a trembling hand towards the dagger hilt, but drew it back just before her fingertips came in contact with the cold metal. Instead she began screaming. Loud, piercing screams that shook the very walls.

With a nod to Lancelot, the two of them hauled Arthur to his feet and began to drag him towards the door. Even as they made their escape the columns and molding began to tumble down around them. Dust billowed up, obscuring Merlin’s vision somewhat. Once safely through the door, Merlin glanced back. The dust and crumbling architecture obscured everything so completely that Merlin couldn’t see any sign of the tragic sisters.

XXXXXXXXXX

So much happened following Morgana’s downfall that Merlin and Arthur didn’t have a moment alone. Given what he’d been forced to reveal, Merlin was glad for it. Instead he volunteered to go with Elyan, Lancelot and Percival to retrieve Gwen and Gaius from the ruined castle. He needed to talk to Gaius, to discuss whether or not he should even remain in Camelot.

The other three were too focused on their newly knighted status to pay much attention to him. He got a few concerned glances from Lancelot, but managed to distract his friend with a broad smile that almost made his cheeks hurt. It would probably be good to vent to Lancelot, but he didn’t want to chance the others overhearing. Even though he didn’t think that Arthur would tell Uther right away—at least not without first yelling at him a lot—he was still nervous about what could happen to him if he returned to Camelot.

“Stop worrying.”

Merlin hadn’t even noticed Lancelot falling back to ride alongside him. He startled a bit and tried to brush it off with a brief smile. Lancelot’s arched eyebrow told him just how miserably he failed.

“I’m not worrying. Even if Morgana survived, she won’t try anything again so soon,” Merlin hedged, glancing away as though he was peering ahead at the trail.

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

Merlin continued to sidestep the real problem and spouted a lot of nonsense that probably made him sound like he’d gone off the bend. He didn’t want to talk about what had happened in that room when they destroyed the chalice. Except that he did. He really needed to tell someone about what he feared would happen, but each time he opened his mouth, all that came out was gibberish.

“Arthur cares for you. He won’t throw you to the wolves because of what you can do,” Lancelot insisted, grabbing Merlin’s arm in an attempt to hold his attention.

“You forget how he was raised. You forget _who_ raised him. Arthur’s been trained since birth to hate everything that has to do with magic.”

Lancelot grabbed hold of Merlin’s reigns, stopping both horses. “He’s still Arthur. He adores you. Beyond that, you saved his life. Morgause would have gladly killed him if it wasn’t for your magic. And that’s only the time Arthur knows about. How many times have you saved his life with what you can do?”

“A lot.”

“Do you trust him?”

Merlin was scoffing even as Lancelot asked the question.

“Then trust him now to keep your secret safe,” Lancelot insisted, staring earnestly at him. “He won’t risk your life needlessly.”

They were the words that he’d needed to hear since Morgana screamed the room down around their heads. He knew deep down that Arthur wouldn’t simply discard him to Uther’s hatred of magic, but he’d needed someone else to voice those same thoughts.

A little ways up the trail, Percival had stopped to see what was taking them so long. Lancelot smiled and waved him off then turned back to Merlin.

“Trust him. Arthur will not let you down.”

While Merlin was still fumbling to come up with a response, Lancelot spurred his mount to catch up with the others. Merlin stared after him for a moment before giving up his attempt to think of a coherent response then hurried to catch up.

XXXXXXXXXX

“Oh my dear boy,” Gaius sighed as he hurried across the room towards Merlin. “I’m getting far too old to worry this much.”

Merlin’s entire body slumped when he finally saw Gaius. He tried to smile, but his lips just wobbled and he all but stumbled into Gaius’ open arms. Until that moment he hadn’t realized just how scared he’d been that he’d never see Gaius again. There was so much that could have gone wrong the day before—so much that had actually gone wrong—that could have easily prevented him seeing the man who’d become a father to him.

“You’re not rid of me yet,” Merlin managed to mumble into Gaius’ shoulder.

Gaius patted him gently on the back. “And I hope I never am, dear boy.”

For several long moments he continued to hold tight to Gaius, hoping to put off saying what needed to be said for a few moments longer. Merlin knew that he wouldn’t be able to hide from the realities of his problem for long, though. So with one final squeeze, he pulled back.

“What happened that’s put you in such a state?” Gaius asked, leading Merlin to a more secluded area. “Is Arthur well?”

Merlin nodded his head. Arthur’s arm was in a sling while his shoulder healed, but the wound didn’t truly hinder him in any way. He’d sustained a few bruises and some minor lacerations from his fighting with the immortal soldiers; minor injuries, really. No, aside from the fact that Arthur may vey well feel betrayed about what had been revealed during the battle, Camelot’s prince was in a far better state than her king.

“He knows,” Merlin admitted, slumping against a nearby pillar. He kept his eyes on the floor, watching as a few dust motes danced across the flagstones. “Morgause was threatening his life. I couldn’t think of a way to stop her without using my magic. To be honest, I really didn’t want to either.”

Gaius didn’t say anything right away, but the raised eyebrows spoke volumes.

“I nearly told him before we left for Camelot,” Merlin continued when it because obvious that Gaius was letting him say everything he needed to. “I should have told him. I know there’s no right way to tell him about my powers, but anything had to be better than tossing Morgause across the room without touching her. He’ll think I betrayed him.... I’m not too sure I didn’t.”

“It wasn’t a betrayal,” Gaius was quick to assure him.

Merlin only wished it was reassuring.

“I do not think it will be as bad as you expect. I suspect that Arthur’s had his suspicions for quite some time.”

Merlin’s eyes shot up from the floor. He’d spent years denying the fact that Arthur might know about his magical abilities. He’d never wanted to put Arthur in the position where he had to choose between their friendship and his loyalty to Uther. Merlin had always hoped that, after Uther had passed, he’d be able to tell Arthur the truth without fear of retribution. That maybe he’d be able to change Arthur’s opinion of magic.

Now, though.... Now Merlin feared that he could never go back.

“Arthur cares for you a great deal. He won’t throw you to the wolves because of something beyond your control,” Gaius tried to assure him.

“I really doubt that he thinks it’s beyond my control,” Merlin protested, tugging nervously at his neckerchief. “He saw me throw Morgause across a room and try to strangle her without even touching her. It was very obvious that I knew what I was doing.”

“Then what he saw was you using magic in defense of Camelot. In defense of him.”

“He also saw it nearly destroy everything he holds dear,” Merlin protested as he shuffled about nervously. “How can he trust me when Morgana—someone he’s known all his life—tried to bring down Camelot using magic? Between her and Morgause, Arthur’s never going to trust anyone or anything with even the slightest bit of magic.”

“Surely you have more faith in Arthur than that.”

Merlin couldn’t stop himself rolling his eyes. Believing in Arthur has never been the problem. It’s everything else.

“When he’s thinking clearly. Which he’s not. By the way. In case you were wondering.”

This time it was Gaius who was exasperated. “Given everything that’s been going on, it’s to be expected that Arthur’s unsure about some things right now. However, I highly doubt that his relationship with you is among those things.”

There was logic in what Gaius was saying and Merlin knew that he was telling the truth, but there was still that annoying nagging little voice in the back of his head—one that sounded far too much like Kilgharrah for comfort—insisting that Arthur had already gone to Uther and confessed everything. He didn’t want to believe that Arthur would do that, but he couldn’t shake that fear no matter how hard he tried to rationalize it away.

For all that Merlin was convinced that the situation would have been easier for Arthur if he’d told him about his powers rather than having the other man simply stumble upon them, he couldn’t change what was. No matter how much he desperately wanted to. Now he had to figure out a way to make things right with Arthur. And not just because he was worried about becoming slightly crispy around the edges. Arthur had trusted him with so many of his own secrets and he’d never liked the fact that he had to lie to him about something so key to his very self.

“You’ll find the right things to say to each other,” Gaius assured him, squeezing his arm briefly. “Now move along. I’d like to sleep in my own bed tonight.”

XXXXXXXXXX

“I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

Even though he tried to stop himself, Merlin was pretty sure that Arthur saw him flinch at the sound of his voice. He wasn’t scared of Arthur, he never actually had been, but he’d feared the day that Arthur found out the truth about him. He didn’t want to leave Arthur’s service or leave Camelot. He belonged at Arthur’s side from now until the end. An end that most certainly wasn’t so soon.

“Arthur. You look well,” Merlin managed to stammer, wincing at the way his voice squeaked. He glanced at Arthur briefly, long enough so that he wouldn’t be accused of being evasive, before turning back to sorting to various bottles that lined the shelves in Gaius’ workroom. “How’s your shoulder?”

There was an exasperated huff from where Arthur was standing. The worktable creaked, meaning that Arthur was most likely leaning against it. Merlin peeked at Arthur a second time, nearly knocking over one of the opaque bottles in the process. He quickly spun back around, fumbling to keep that bottle, and several others, from tumbling to the floor.

“Oh for the....” Arthur grumbled in such a way that Merlin could perfectly envision him rolling his eyes. The table creaked again, followed by the soft sound of Arthur’s footsteps as he walked across the room. “Will you turn around and look at me? I don’t feel like talking to your back.”

Arthur’s grip on his shoulder was light, but Merlin didn’t resist as the other man tugged on his shoulder. “Hello.”

“Hello,” Arthur echoed, his expression showing his exasperation. He dropped his hand back to his side, canting his head slightly to the side as he peered into Merlin’s face. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Oh really?” Arthur’s right eyebrow arched, his lips twisting into a slightly amused expression. “So the fact that you all but bolted from the castle once the battle was over...?”

“I was worried about Gaius and Gwen.” It was true enough, but it wasn’t the only reason that he’d gone with Lancelot and the rest to bring Gaius and Gwen back to Camelot. He also knew that Arthur wouldn’t believe his excuses anymore than Merlin himself did.

“I understand why you’re scared,” Arthur said softly, not moving out of Merlin’s space. If anything, he moved a bit closer, his fingertips fluttering against Merlin’s knuckles. “But, Merlin, you have to know.... You can’t believe....”

Merlin shook his head, the movements short and jerky. He reached out, curling his fingers around Arthur’s left hand. “I’m not. Why would I be?”

Arthur turned his hand, sliding his fingers through Merlin’s. He squeezed their linked fingers together briefly then backed up, letting Merlin’s hand slip from his grip. He retreated back to the worktable, walking around until he was on the other side of the furniture. Arthur’s expression was shuttered, giving Merlin no insight into what he was thinking. Merlin hated it when Arthur became unreadable. Not only did that make it difficult to gauge his mood—and therefore how he’d react to things—but with everything else that was going on, Arthur didn’t need the added burden of such worries.

“Merlin.” A beat. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Sighing, Merlin leaned against the shelves, trying to figure out an answer he could give Arthur. They both knew the real truth; Arthur didn’t need to question that. Given everything that had gone on between them since Merlin had arrived in Camelot, Merlin knew he should have told Arthur long ago. He’d wanted to tell Arthur long ago.

“I tried to tell you. So many times,” Merlin said at last. He kept his eyes trained on the dusty flags at his feet. The closest he came to looking at Arthur was glancing at the tips of his boots, barely visible between the chair legs under the table. They needed polishing again. “I wanted to tell you. I just.... No matter how hard I tried, the words never came out.”

Arthur huffed out a sigh. “That wasn’t the first time you used magic to save my life, was it?”

Merlin’s lips twisted into a parody of a smile. “No.”

“When was the first time?”

“Lady Helen.”

Arthur’s sudden bark of laughter startled Merlin somewhat. “Of course it was. So all those times that...?”

“Yeah. Probably.”

The silence stretched out between them. Merlin knew there was a lot that needed to be said between them. Things that he needed to explain, things he should apologize for, but every time he tried nothing came out. On the plus side, Arthur didn’t appear to want him dead. At least not right away. There was no telling what Arthur would do once everything calmed down and Uther was back in control of the kingdom.

“This is what you were trying to tell me about the other night, isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question.

“It was.”

Merlin lifted his head, forcing himself to meet Arthur’s gaze. This wasn’t how he’d imagined Arthur’s reaction to finding out about his abilities. Merlin had expected a lot of shouting and threats. At the very least he’d thought to be thrown into the dungeons as soon as he returned to the city. The fact that Arthur was willing to listen was a good sign. He could explain himself to Arthur and maybe walk away with his life if nothing else.

“I never liked keeping it a secret from you,” Merlin said quietly, moving across the room to sit on the opposite side of the table. He felt slightly less exposed when he was seated. “I just.... You understand _why_ I could never tell you, right?”

As Merlin settled himself on one of the chairs, Arthur lifted his left hand from his lap and placed it on the table, fingers drumming silently. Merlin found himself mirroring the position somewhat before he could think to stop himself. He loosely wove his fingers together, angling them downward so that his pinkies were very close to Arthur’s left hand.

“I should turn you into my father,” Arthur said quietly after several long moments of silence. “You’re practicing magic. The fact that you haven’t been discovered before now is kind of miraculous. I just.... You should be executed for treason. I shouldn’t even question it.”

Merlin nudged his hands forward so that his fingers were just barely brushing against Arthur’s. “I’m kinda glad that you are. Not just because I’m partial to living, but because it means you’re not like your father. He hates all things magic because it’s something that he can’t control.”

Silence fell between them once again; blue eyes meeting equally blue ones. There was so much else that Merlin wanted to say, but he was pretty sure that it wouldn’t go down well. There was still too much tension in the set of Arthur’s shoulders. He needed Arthur to understand that he wasn’t a threat to him or to Camelot.

Merlin had to stop his entire body from going to jelly when Arthur’s pushed his fingers that much closer to his, little finger sliding over Merlin’s. As Arthur’s finger slid lightly over his, Merlin’s lips stretched into a soft smile. Arthur’s touch was as tender as it had always been and there was no way he would be so calm if Merlin’s magic truly bothered him. No doubt Arthur was confused and he probably felt a bit betrayed, but the fact that he was willing to listen eased much of the fear and worry that had been bubbling up inside of him since the battle with Morgause had ended.

“I don’t want anything to change between us,” Merlin said quietly as the silence continued to stretch on.

Arthur’s lips twisted into one of those utterly ridiculous, but entirely fantastic half-smiles that never failed to coax a smile from Merlin as well. It was a good sign. Arthur made it far too easy to guess his emotions by simply looking at his face. His expressions had such a wealth of ticks and twitches that it was a relatively simple process to gauge his mood just by looking at his face. Of course he couldn’t tell Arthur that because there would be a great deal of one-sided shouting and throwing of things. He would also probably end up getting sacked for the umpteenth time. The sacking had yet to be permanent, but Arthur was always frustrating and annoying—moreso than usual—those first days back.

“You’re still an idiot,” Arthur told him rather bluntly. “A powerful idiot, but an idiot.”

There was no malice whatsoever in Arthur’s voice or expression, so Merlin didn’t even attempt to stop the wide grin that split his features. Arthur rolled his eyes and lightly shoved Merlin’s hands away as he sat back in his seat. There was nothing strained or uneasy between them, something Merlin hadn’t thought to happen so soon. At the very least he’d expected fear and suspicion. He really shouldn’t have, though. Arthur had proved time and again over the past few years that he wasn’t Uther.

Merlin watched as Arthur fidgeted about in the chair, hand going up to rub at his right shoulder. Merlin could practically see Arthur thinking up new chores for him to do. Rationally, he knew that things would need to return to normal. That meant returning to his role as Arthur’s manservant despite them both knowing what Merlin was truly capable of.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you before,” Merlin said, hoping to forestall that eventuality for at least a little while longer. His gaze flittered between the tabletop and Arthur’s face.

Arthur nodded absently as he slowly pushed himself up from the table. “Next time just come talk to me. Don’t run away.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” Merlin smirked, leaning back in his chair.

“It’s been lonely without you... at night.” Arthur met and held Merlin’s eyes when he spoke.

It was the closest Arthur had ever come to admitting what lay between them. It was certainly more than Merlin himself had ever said. Given everything that had happened in the past week, Merlin was utterly relieved to hear it. Arthur was hardly likely to turn him over to Uther if he still wanted them to share a bed.

“I missed you, too,” Merlin murmured, grinning broadly.

Arthur scowled at him, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. He started to say something, then shook his head. With one final glance at him, Arthur strode out of Gaius’ workshop.

“I my boots need polishing,” Arthur called over his shoulder as he pulled the door open. “And see if you can sort out my armor.”

“So that equality thing you were talking about...?”

“By tomorrow morning, Merlin.”

The end.


End file.
